When The Bleeding Stops
by LoveIsATemple
Summary: When Caroline is in danger, Klaus is there to save the day. (AU) (Three-Shot)
1. I Don't Miss You

**A/N: **This has been sitting on my computer since April and I only just got around to finishing it. It's a two-shot that takes place before both TO and TVD's season finales. The second part will be out before the end of the week. Forgive me if I didn't write Camille properly. I don't mind her, but I've not studied her character in depth.

Anyway, enjoy this bit of Klaroline.

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with The Vampire Diaries or The Originals.**

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><p><strong>When The Bleeding Stops Part 1: I Don't Miss You<strong>

"I think you're a little drunk, Caroline," Stefan said again, reaching for the beer bottle in the blonde's hand.

She reacted fast, pulling her arm away at lightning speed.

"I'm a vampire," she reminded him disdainfully. He shot his eyes around the Grill, praying to no one in particular that the ears' of the other patrons were too dull to hear her garbled words. "I don't stay drunk for long. Let me have my fun and I'll let you lecture me tomorrow."

Stefan frowned at the odd sight before him. Usually Caroline carried an impossibly bright light with her wherever she went, offering sage advice to the foolish and opening up the eyes of the blind like she was Jesus come to rescue them all.

But as he stared at her now, noticing the bleakness in her blue eyes and the drabness of her blonde hair, he knew something was amiss.

It couldn't be anything supernatural related. They'd been working their asses off as of late to make sure Mystic Falls was safe once again from the big, bad monsters. Everything was in its place. No more demons, no more crazy vampires, no more spooky witches out for revenge.

So what was bothering the abnormally glum vampire?

A tiff with Bonnie, perhaps? His own brother? Elena?

"You deserve happiness, Stefan," she slurred, her eyelids drooping dangerously over her eyes.

Stefan raised his eyebrows gradually.

This had something to do with happiness, then. Either her lack of it, or her desperate need for it.

"I do?" He questioned, her statement amusing him. He appreciated the friendship he and the blonde had formed recently. It kept him sane, kept him out of trouble. Hearing her tell him that he 'deserved happiness' made his insides go fuzzy because it meant that he had someone looking out for him, worrying about him.

Caroline nodded sadly, wrapping her lips around the bottle and sucking until it was empty. She shook it a few times, tapping the base as if she were willing the final drops of bitter liquid to splash on her wasted tongue.

"You do," she sighed. "Damon's stealing it from you. It's not fair."

The Mystic Grill was having a quiet, lazy afternoon. Two couples sat in booths, eating their burgers and fries while trying to find fun conversation topics. A group of women sipped cosmos at the end of the bar, shooting Stefan flirty smiles every now and then.

Why Caroline picked now as the opportune moment to discuss the many battles between the Salvatore brothers was beyond him, but he decided to humour her.

"How is Damon stealing my happiness, exactly?"

Caroline looked at him like he'd grown an extra set of canines.

"Elena," she whined, her voice squeaking like a mouse.

Stefan closed his eyes momentarily and smiled softly.

"It's been a while, Caroline. I'm not that upset about it," he told her, not sure if he trusted his own words.

His heart had been metaphorically ripped from his chest when Elena chose Damon over him. It was Katherine all over again, except maybe this time Damon would win the girl.

They were happy though, or so it seemed to him and most everyone else.

That was what kept him from banging on their door at night and demanding answers. That's why he refused to think about it too long. If Elena was happy, if Damon wasn't parading the streets at night and sucking perfect strangers dry, he could look past his brokenness in favour of their well-being.

Caroline scoffed at his apparent apathy on the subject.

"I don't believe you," she rushed enthusiastically. "You guys were like, the greatest thing ever. And now you're having to suffer."

She snapped her fingers at the bartender and was rewarded with another bottle of beer. She twisted the cap, sniffing the alcohol before taking a large gulp. Her face screwed sourly as the acrid taste slid down her throat and slammed into her stomach.

This was something he never thought he'd see. Caroline, torn and depressed, unable to be consoled. Not even by him. And was it him, or did the bartender look like he was under Caroline's spell?

"It's totally unfair," she said, finishing the drink with a loud gurgle.

"How is it unfair? Who's got the short straw here, Caroline?" He asked lowly, placing his chin in the palm of his hand and twisting in his seat so he was facing Caroline's profile.

Caroline's knuckles whitened, her grip tightening on the bottle in her hand.

"You. You got the fucking short straw. And it's sad. And I hate Damon and I kinda hate Elena. She only likes him because he's a wildcard. He's the bad boy and that's somehow attractive," she spat, heat rising in her cheeks. He assumed it had more to do with her impassioned speech than the alcohol. "But it isn't attractive. It's stupid. Why not go for the safe guy who you know will love you for the rest of time? Why bother breaking everyone's heart, including your own, just for a little more danger?" She slammed the beer down in triumph—or maybe in loss—her eyes dancing, flicking from one object to the next like a junky on edge.

A bubble of laughter pooled in Stefan's throat as the reason for Caroline's distress dawned on him.

He knew what was bothering Caroline, and it wasn't his slashed relationship with Elena Gilbert.

"Caroline," he said, gently pulling her fingers away from the bottle and taking her hand in his. "What's really on your mind?"

"What do you mean?" She asked defensively, pricking him with her icy glare.

He could see the thoughts shining behind her eyes. They were fearful and trepidatious.

"This isn't really about Elena and Damon, is it?" He spoke to her like one would speak to a fussy child, but what more could she expect when that's exactly how she was presenting herself.

"I'm still confused," she said, a shaky quality to her typically calm tone.

Stefan shook his head and pouted.

"Come on, Caroline. This is one hundred percent about Klaus. Admit it," he dared her.

Shock passed over her features, morphing her beautiful lips into an 'O' and bringing her eyebrows so close together he feared they'd never be able to part again.

"No," she said solidly, taking her hand away from his. "No, no, no, Stefan. Get your head out of your ass. That's totally not true. Seriously, it's not true," she denied with vehemence.

The laugh he'd been holding escaped his mouth, bouncing through his teeth and off his tongue. Caroline immediately took on an affronted stare, pinching her lips into a straight line.

Stefan smiled knowingly at her, refusing to be put off by her many uses of the word 'no.'

"When you're ready to admit it," he whispered, almost as if he were spilling a great secret. "I'll be here."

Sticking out her tongue, because she was nothing if not mature, Caroline hopped off the bar stool. She gathered her purse and keys, picking up her jacket and flinging it over her shoulder in a huff of anger.

"I'm leaving. Goodbye, Stefan," she seethed, turning away and bursting into a strut.

Stefan blinked as she walked her way to the front of the Grill, her hips shaking angrily.

The doors opened in front of her and Stefan watched her get swallowed up by the afternoon sun.

He'd caught her. It was about Klaus. Only Caroline would go so far as to abandon a whole situation when she was feeling guilty and trapped.

And what more was there to feel guilty about than missing the Original hybrid?

* * *

><p>Bloodshed. Buckets and buckets of bloodshed. Thumbs bitten off, ropes of vervain tied around wrists, pregnant bellies swollen and kicking.<p>

Life had taken an unexpected turn, a bad turn.

When would he learn that his world revolved around mischief and mayhem? There was never any good in it, no golden light encompassing the space above his head. He wore black because it told the people around him to fear him. And it brought out his mysterious eyes, but that was besides the point.

He was evil. He _was _evil. Evil _was_ him, and he couldn't do anything about it except bask in its sinister glory.

"You seem sad, Klaus. What's the matter?" Camille walked behind him, setting her large university books on the countertop of the bar with a loud thump.

Looking at her incredulously, because how else was one to look at someone who _seemed_ to know everything about you, Klaus—evil in vampire/werewolf form—shook his head with contempt.

The psychology major's hair was twisted into some sort of intricate bun on one side of her head, a few tendrils daring to frame her strong jawline. Pins and elastic and sweet-smelling hairspray kept the locks of blonde in place, and he wondered why humans were so obsessed with their looks that they would go to such lengths just to appease the opposite gender.

The hybrid didn't respond to her question. It was too personal.

Perhaps he was sad, but such emotions never truly appealed to him, so he could very well be wrong in his own assumption. But she was in his head, much the same way as Silas, and he should believe her when she told him things.

Camille sighed regretfully.

He'd been around long enough to know when someone was disappointed.

What did she have to disappoint her? Besides the fact that just recently her world came crashing down around her. But even then she showed nothing more than a few tears and a hell of a lot of courage. Yes, she'd begged him—begged almost too much of him—but who hadn't?

She spoke again, "You're remembering something."

A noise, something that sounded odd and pitched to his own ears, tumbled out his mouth. It was a laugh.

Was she really inside his head? Had some witch broken precious laws and allowed the human access to his innermost thoughts?

Taking a long gulp of his beer, he faced her and smiled ruefully, turning his lips up in a way he hoped would scare her. But she just continued staring at him, concern (for some ungodly reason) glistening in her eyes.

"Am I now?" He questioned, thinking and trying to recall if he had in fact been remembering something. His head was so full of jumbled words and images nowadays, he easily got lost in it. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that he forget such a simple thing; that he forgot he was remembering.

Camille nodded and smiled brightly, too brightly. So brightly he had to close his eyes for a brief moment to shield his poor, darkened mind from her perfectly white teeth.

Was she not just regretfully sighing to him?

He would never understand humans. Or women, for that matter.

"You're remembering something and it's making you sad," she concluded after looking him up and down.

The sudden urge to cover himself up, to protect himself from her prying eyes, almost became too much, but he held his ground. He would not show any emotion in front of this girl except apathy.

Today, he was evil. Tomorrow he could humour her with giggles and talks of his true self.

It was a game he found himself playing with this mortal more often than not. She was like a puppy dog, always so willing to conform to his needs. When he was sad, she would console. When he was bad, she would either cower alongside him or bark and growl angrily. When he was happy or flirtatious, she'd fall at his feet and lap at the attention.

He didn't mean to do it, not really. Long ago he would have gladly played with her because he could, and he would enjoy it because he was so incredibly messed up. But now it was an accident, something that occurred only as a result of his mind not yet being fully reformed.

He was better, but not the best. Good, but not great.

And she played so well. And he enjoyed her company. He did. There was no joke to be laughed at when it came to his personal feelings concerning the human. But it had been so long, or at least it felt like it had been so long, since he allowed himself the pleasure of friendship that he quickly got lost in sin when trying out virtue.

Camille tapped his shoulder as if to pull him away from his own thoughts. He'd been staring at her, but she didn't appear to mind. She'd been staring right back.

"You keep watching my hair," she told him, attempting to explain why she had broken their staring contest.

Had he been _watching_ her hair?

He looked at it again, at the swirly bun. Focused now, he trailed his eyes along the gleaming strands. Her hair looked like silk, like something that wove dreams together. It glistened in the glare of lights, but didn't quite fit her.

Beautiful. The style itself was beautiful, but it looked awkward when placed on her. Uneasy and _not right_.

"Does it look stupid?" Camille asked, once again disturbing his focus.

He blinked at her, the muscles in his face not wanting to work properly for him.

"I tried this new tutorial. It's a prom hairstyle, so I understand if it looks kind of idiotic. I just wanted to see what it would look like. What I would look like. Apparently I graduated too long ago, though. I can't really pull something like this off anymore," she babbled, already reaching up to her hair and sliding the various clips and pins out, setting them one by one on the counter.

Camille continued talking, her soft voice barely penetrating his ears. He wasn't listening any longer, though.

He was too busy _remembering_.

Another night. Another lifetime it seemed sometimes. A girl demanding, begging like so many do, to be dressed like Princess Grace of Monaco. The crème fabric that hugged her hips and breasts and thighs, her hair twirled into a sleek bun as it shone with diamonds, him showing mercy towards the man—no, the boy—he hated for the woman who claimed knew his love for her.

"—and that's why I can't eat bananas anymore. Wine coolers and me, big no-no." Camille finished talking, still wearing her smile like armour, and ran a hand through her long hair, fiddling the knots out less than delicately.

Flitting back through their conversation, he gathered she must have been telling him some extravagant story about her own prom experience. Trivial and useless information. He was half-glad he'd stopped listening. The other half of him wished he'd never tuned her out.

"Hey, I've never seen you drink anything less than the most expensive bourbon here," she noticed, thumbing the rim of his beer bottle. An awfully strange urge to bite her finger washed over him. "What's with the ale all of a sudden?"

What Camille said was true, fact even. But he didn't have a better explanation other than, "I had a craving."

Which wasn't false. He'd come to the bar with the intention of getting as wasted as a vampire possibly could by using a much stronger drink, but before he could fathom his own words, a beer was sitting by his hand and his mouth was watering like it did in the seconds before he sank his aching fangs into the warm bloodstream of a victim.

"You pregnant?" Camille teased.

He chuckled cynically. "No, but with the apparent potency of my semen, I very well could be."

Camille's face soured immediately at his crude words. She looked as though she were about to slap him, hard, but the device in his jacket pocket rang out some silly tune and his gorgeous face was saved from the girl's outrage.

Klaus grabbed the phone and glanced at the screen, recognising the number immediately.

_Stefan. _

Why was Stefan Salvatore calling him? What did he want?

"Answer it," Camille ordered, her hand still poised to meet his stubbled cheek. Her face said 'answer it now, or I'll slap you.' And while she could not possibly hurt him, he was curious and angry and foolish and did not necessarily want Camille's slender hand marking his face. For who knew the consequences of such an action when he was this upset.

He obliged the blonde's wishes, clicking whichever button answered the call and brought the phone up to his ear.

"What?" He snapped, aware that Camille was staring dreamily at him. The woman must have bipolar disorder. She flew through emotions quicker than he could keep track.

Stefan's voice was quiet but strained when he answered. He was scared.

"It's Caroline," the young vampire rippled.

He remembered again. Matt, the insipid human, telling him—him! the scariest beast on the whole planet—how bad he was for forcing Tyler to bite his precious girlfriend; Tyler months and months later laying a weak and nimble vampire at his feet and telling him that if he wanted the girl dead, he'd be forced to watch.

He remembered how they sounded then: terrified, hurt, so utterly _mortal_. They sounded like Stefan did at this very moment.

He remembered picking her up both times, setting her head against his chest as her body shook with venom, offering his wrist to bring her some sick form of salvation. The sting of her fangs as they dipped in his skin, the pull of her mouth as she suckled on his blood.

The overwhelming satisfaction and equally terrifying guilt and grief that overcame him as he watched her wounds heal before his eyes, knowing he had lost it all, over some insignificant, baby vampire.

"What about our dear Caroline?" Damn, he said _our_. He didn't mean that. He wanted to take it back, but he couldn't now, that would be silly.

Camille watched him with fascination, her eyes narrowing at the mention of another female's name. Was the woman truly jealous? Of a name?

But maybe she felt the tremble in his voice as he said the name. He could feel it too, tumbling through his body and hitting his balls like a sledgehammer.

"She . . . she was in the woods, feeding on some animal and this beast came out of nowhere. She got bitten by a werewolf. She needs you, Klaus. Help her," the other vampire begged.

The blood in Klaus' face drained.

He had to remain indifferent. He could not let emotions overcrowd his senses. He would _not _be led to the guillotine by those tedious feelings humans were so fond of.

"Klaus, what's the matter?" Camille wrapped her fingers around his bicep, clinging to his body like a prickly, overbearing barnacle.

In a half-assed attempt to prove Stefan's words had no effect on him, he shook Camille's hand off his arm and waved his fingers at her dismissively, trying to ignore the thoughts buzzing through his veins.

_Caroline. Werewolf. __**Help her**_.

"I don't believe you," he warned furiously, praying to the faceless men parading around in the clouds that this was all some horrible misunderstanding.

"Please," Stefan pleaded, sounding so much more than helpless.

Klaus glanced at Camille, at her blonde hair and strong presence.

She looked like _**her**_.

He'd never realised it before, but it was right in front of him now.

But they were too different. Camille appealed to him because she was human and therefore fed upon by her own mind. Caroline, she was an anomaly altogether. She made no sense. Bright, charming, but oh so very wicked.

Where Camille lacked charisma, Caroline breathed it.

The same; in looks and perhaps in the way they both wormed their way into his screwed up mind. But different. One was his psychologist, the other was his oxygen. And he was tired of suffocating.

"Klaus, seriously—" Camille started, but that word was the final push, the last call he required.

He stared at the bottle in the hand not currently holding the phone to his ear, debating the consequences of leaving. New Orleans would turn to chaos without him, Marcel would gain some form of upper hand.

But someone, his only weakness, needed him.

In a blink, he'd disappeared, knowing that seeing her, while utterly painful, would always outweigh the repercussions he faced.

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><p><strong>AN 2: **Thoughts?


	2. Fool Me Twice

**A/N: **So, news! This has turned into a three-shot. I couldn't resolve the conflict in just this one chapter, so you'll have to wait probably another week for me to get the final part out. Sorry.

Either way, thank you so much for the support! I'm really not sure how you'll feel about this update, but know that the final part will be all happy and funny. This is the angstiest it'll get.

It cuts off at a weird bit, but I really hope it doesn't ruin the effect.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>When the Bleeding Stops Part 2: Fool Me Twice<strong>

She was cold and she was so thirsty. Stefan had brought her to the old boarding house, laid her on one of the fancy sofas and then left to make some phone calls. If she tried, she would be able to hear his hushed words, but the venom was taking effect quicker than she remembered.

When Stefan came back a few minutes later, his face having taken on a very unattractive grey sheen, she didn't even have the energy to smile.

This was how it ended for her. One stupid werewolf bite to the hip and she was a goner.

Three times. She'd been bitten by a werewolf three different times, but there was no one here to save her now. The one person that _could_ help her was off trying to take over the world, or something of that nature.

Funnily enough, Caroline wasn't afraid. She'd come to terms with the idea of living forever when she was still a teenager, and though the notion was romantic, the reality was just depressing. Living forever would mean she'd have to watch her mother die. It meant never being able to settle down for more than ten years because soon enough people would realise that she wasn't actually getting any older.

She was okay with dying. Well, not really. It hurt like a bitch and Stefan looked like he was about to start crying. But at least she wasn't scared.

"Can I get you anything, Caroline?" Stefan asked when he took a break from pacing the living room, his beautiful hair sticking in every direction.

Caroline thought for a moment. Did she want anything? Need anything?

_Klaus_. She needed him to come rescue her. Offer his wrist like the responsible little hybrid he was. But he'd probably forgotten all about them, just like she was still trying to forget about him. Good thing she was almost dead. She could finally stop torturing herself about sleeping with him. And about _maybe_ falling in love with him.

"Nothing, Stefan. But it would be nice if you sat still. This beautiful persian rug isn't going to last any longer if you don't stop marching on it."

The green-eyed vampire smiled crookedly before sitting next to her, lifting her sweaty legs onto his thighs. He absently stroked her shins with his thumbs, completely lost in thought, that smile vanishing as quickly as it came.

A few moments later, as Caroline tried thinking of _anything _to take her mind off the excruciating pain radiating from her side, Damon, Elena and Bonnie stormed into the living room. Their eyes widened when they caught sight of her.

Stefan zipped up from the sofa and pulled the three of them into another room. Caroline could hear more hushed voices, but her strength was almost all gone. She could barely bring herself to blink.

"Caroline," Elena hummed, kneeling next to her. Her suntanned hand stroked Caroline's clammy cheek. "You're going to be okay," she said.

Caroline almost laughed. "I'm dying, Elena," she croaked. "But, yeah. I think so too."

"Your mom is on her way. She's worried."

Shifting her head so she was facing Elena, Caroline tried to lift her lips, giving up after a few seconds of mind-numbing agony. "Thank you. For being here."

"Of course we're here. Matt's almost here too. So is Jere. You're going to be okay," she said again, and she smiled at Caroline like she truly believed that.

"I'm tired, Elena," Caroline mumbled. "And my head hurts."

"Shh. Don't close your eyes, Caroline. Keep them open. Fight," Elena begged, her words leaving her lips in pants.

Caroline couldn't stand this. Everyone showing up to say goodbye to her? How unreal. Just a few hours ago she was sitting at the Grill with Stefan, lying to him about missing Klaus.

Now Elena was crying two inches from her face, smoothing Caroline's unruly hair from her sticky-as-cotton-candy forehead. Soon the sheriff would arrive, and that would be Caroline's undoing. Watching her mother sob for her as she lay cold and dying was not something she wanted to witness.

The front door opened and shut. Two new sets of stomping feet entered the house.

"Caroline, God," Matt cried from the doorway. Jeremy was by his side, his dark eyes bunched.

"Oh, be quiet. Don't scare her," Damon chided as he strolled in, a glass of some amber liquid in his pale hand. "Want some, Blondie?" He offered, raising an eyebrow.

Trust Damon to still be an ass in the midst of a crisis.

Elena frowned. "What do you think, Damon?"

"What?" He chugged the alcohol in one gulp. "It might help take some of the edge off."

Caroline gasped a small laugh, but stopped when everyone's face fell. Stefan zoomed in from wherever he had been, phone pressed to his shoulder, face frozen in fear. Bonnie followed close behind.

She mentally checked Laughing Quietly off as something _not _to do when dying in a room full of overly cautious vampires, witches, and humans. "I'm fine," she wheezed. "It was a—" _cough _"—laugh."

"Seriously," she added when they continued to look at her as if she were about to expire right then. Judging by the amount of pain she was in, though, that probably wasn't too bad of a guess.

"Well," Stefan said calmly, but Caroline still felt his eyes on her every few seconds. "Now that we're almost all here, I think we should sit and relax." He took a seat on the floor, folding his legs like he was a child.

Slowly, everyone snapped out of their stupor and joined him.

Here she was, nearly dead and surrounded by people who loved her.

_I don't want to die_, she realised suddenly, the pain of that recognition almost as powerful as the poison running rampant through her veins.

"Story time, brother?" Damon asked mockingly, his knee glued to Elena's. Caroline saw her best friend's fingers twirl calming patterns over the raven-haired man's back.

Was he scared for her too?

Stefan smiled sadly. "Yeah, why not? You wanna hear some tales of the Civil War, Care? World War II? The Roaring Twenties?"

Her eyes gleamed when he mentioned the twenties and she nodded once, her neck protesting. That was when Klaus and him had first gotten to know each other.

"The nineteen-twenties, then," Stefan conceded, and he launched into a captivating spiel of his time during the Jazz Age.

.1.

Caroline's mom arrived shortly after Stefan had finished explaining how his persona ended up in one of F. Scott Fitzgerald's novels.

The werewolf venom was still spreading. Her skin trembled with every tiny movement, so she'd taken to lying as still as possible.

It had been three hours since the attack. The sun was gone. Her hope was gone.

_I don't want to die_.

Stefan rushed to Liz straight away, his hands clamping over hers.

"Is he almost here?" Her mother asked, forehead creased. She looked so very old, Caroline noticed.

_Who? _

"He's just reached the town limit. Shouldn't be long now," Stefan whispered, and the sheriff's mouth opened, letting out a relieved sigh.

"Caroline, honey," her mom hushed, eyes full of unshed tears.

"Don't…cry," Caroline said, surprised at how _weak _her voice sounded.

"You'll be okay," Liz informed her determinedly. "I promise you."

Through the haze of venom and beyond the frightened faces of her friends and mother, Caroline began to suspect there was something they weren't telling her. But just as she was about to ask what that something was, the darkness pulled, jerking her so violently that her mom jumped back.

"Caroline!" She heard someone, maybe everyone, scream.

Her eyes slammed shut and she opened her mouth, a gargled cry echoing around the room.

_Make it stop, make it stop! _she pleaded, and it stopped.

.1.

"Argh! Why didn't you call me sooner?" Someone was angry. Someone was pissed beyond redemption.

Hands trailed her sides and if she wasn't comatose, she might have giggled. She was very ticklish.

"We…we couldn't find her. She'd already been lying there for two hours when I got to her."

"Not good enough!" The voice bellowed. She groaned inwardly at the invasive noise. "You were all supposed to be protecting her!"

"Stop it, this isn't helping anyone!"

"Can you save my daughter or not?"

"Do something. She's not responding."

"Please."

"Help her!"

"What in God's name are you doing? This isn't a strip joint!"

"I need you all to shut your mouths! Stefan, help me take her shirt off."

"Don't touch her like that!"

"Liz, I know she's your daughter and you've got hang-ups about her virtue, but I need to see what I'm dealing with here. The wound is on her hip, yes? The hip that just so happens to be covered by both her shirt and her trousers." The voice sounded indignant, like it didn't have time for all the _other _voices.

"Liz, why don't you come with me and Bonnie. We'll make you some tea."

"I'd like a glass of bourbon, if you've got it."

"Damon, get Matt and Jeremy out of here."

"Stefan, are you okay?"

"Damon, now!"

"Damon, I'm fine. Go."

There was silence. She felt cool metal run along her stomach.

"Don't cut her."

"I'm being careful."

Someone lifted her up into an awkward sitting position. Her head lolled to one side, resting against a hard shoulder. Her shirt fell off of her.

"We need to get her jeans off too." And so her jeans went too.

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Go be sick somewhere else, I've got her now. Go on, Stefan. She's going to be fine," the voice said, but it didn't sound very convincing.

"I've got you, love," it said, holding her upright again, and instantly she was calmed. "Open your mouth, come on."

She tried telling her jaw to loosen, but it wouldn't listen.

Warm fingers pulled on her chin until her teeth popped apart. "Good girl," the voice applauded. "Now suck," it told her, pressing a sweet-scented liquid to her lips.

As if on instinct, she latched her mouth around whatever was offering her the metallic, tasty treat and she suckled it like a newborn child.

When the voice told her stop, she again didn't listen, but the liquid was pulled from her nonetheless. She would whimper if she could find her voice.

"Sleep now, love."

She could do nothing but comply.

* * *

><p>The sun was far too bright. It scorched her eyelids until she groggily decided it was probably time to wake up.<p>

Boy, did she have a story to tell Elena and Bonnie. She had started dreaming in vivid detail when she became a vampire, but never before had a dream felt _so __real_.

Klaus was there, for heaven's sake, patching up her werewolf bite. He'd _stripped _her!

She opened her eyes.

The first thing she realised was, this was not her bedroom. This wasn't even her house. This wasn't even her _dorm room_.

If anything, this looked like the Salvatore's place. Red and gold and old wood everywhere.

"Ah, sleeping beauty awakens," lulled a soft voice beside the bed.

She startled, thrown by the familiarity and warmth in those few words; they sounded absolutely relieved. And then another thought came to her: it had not been a dream.

_Well, fuck me. _

Turning her no-longer-aching head in the direction of the voice, she frowned. "What are you doing here?" She asked, her throat dry. There was an incessant pulsing in her teeth that told her it was probably time to indulge in some blood.

"Well," he said, raising his eyebrows playfully. Something told her he shouldn't be allowed to do that. It was too…attractive. "Saving your life."

Groaning dramatically, she pushed her irrational thoughts aside and tried to focus on anything but the wild vampire king sitting in extreme proximity to her. "So it really wasn't just some horrific nightmare?"

Klaus' eyes widened for a moment, like he was suddenly afraid of some beast Caroline couldn't see, but in an instant he'd gotten his smug calm back. "It was pretty horrific. And a nightmare for just about all your friends. But no, it wasn't bad dream. It was definitely real."

She was about to get up. Storm off, make some big show of how unaffected she was that he had _come back _to Mystic Falls. But one shift and she felt the silkiness of the sheets covering her body glide over her bare stomach and legs. Shit, she was naked.

Of course she was naked. And of course she was naked in a room where Klaus was her only companion.

"Problem, Caroline?" He asked, wearing a conceited grin.

She shot him a _like-you-don't-already-know_ look. "What did you do with my clothes?" She paused, gathering the duvet and pulling it up so it covered her bra-clad chest. Caroline sat up and raised an eyebrow. "Better yet, tell me _why_ I'm not wearing any."

"You aren't totally naked. You've got your underwear on. I'm not that much of a pervert, you know," he assured her casually.

Why did he have to be such an ass to her? She did nearly die just a few hours ago. At least she thought it was just a few hours ago.

"Oh, well, thank you so much for that," she mumbled sarcastically.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, love. You don't have to be shy around me."

Caroline rolled her eyes, a blush making its way from her toes to her hairline. She hid her face, but knew Klaus had already seen her reaction to his statement. "Just…why? Couldn't you have _not _stripped me down? Or could you not resist?"

"Yes, that's it," he agreed jokingly. His expression darkened suddenly, making Caroline uncomfortable. "I couldn't stay away."

And there was a hidden message in what he said, something Caroline detected. Something sad and lonely and _true_.

Klaus stood up, wandering over to the second window in the bedroom. She watched him thrust open the curtains. She shielded her eyes from the powerful streams of light. Thank God she was still wearing her ring.

"I had to see what had happened," he told her quietly, his accent drifting to her as if he were singing her a lullaby. "Stefan called me and I didn't believe him, but he was terrified, I knew that much. When I got here, I just had to see."

"Had to see…?"

He glanced at her, his eyes piercing her non-existent soul. His gaze went to her hidden hip. "Your wound." Holding his hands behind his back, Klaus started walking around the room, observing little trinkets here and there that lined the walls. His movements reminded her of when Stefan was pacing last night.

...At least she thought it was night.

"How long was I asleep?" She asked when Klaus paused in front of a wardrobe. He opened the doors, revealing a large expanse of period clothes. It looked like a closet from one of her old drama camps.

Klaus began flicking through the different outfits. "Two days."

_Two days? _Caroline inhaled sharply, a wave of dizziness washing over her. "That's…a long time."

Pulling out a top that looked like it had travelled there from the 60's, Klaus held it up to his chest and smiled at her, though it was nowhere near as teasing as it had been earlier. "It was a bad bite. You needed a lot of time to recover."

"And…and where is everyone else?" All of her friends. Stefan. Her mom.

Klaus put the shirt back and closed the wardrobe doors. "I told them I'd watch over you. They were looking a bit peaky."

So they hadn't just left her. He'd made them leave.

A question popped into her head and was out of her mouth before she had a second to think about it, "Why did you come?"

Klaus looked confused by her inquiry. "You were dying…"

Biting back a snarky remark, Caroline rolled her eyes. "Okay, yeah, but why are you still here? I get that Stefan called you about saving my life, that's understandable, but what's keeping you here?" And she did get it, why Stefan contacted Klaus. He was the only one who could save her life and he seemed to get here quick enough. She was even _thankful _that Stefan had swallowed his pride and called the baddest-of-the-bad hybrid. Caroline hadn't wanted to die. Klaus had, once again, given her another chance at life.

But why he hadn't left yet—why he hadn't left the minute her wound started to heal—was creating a storm cloud of bewilderment inside her mind.

Klaus came and sat back in the chair beside the bed. Caroline looked down at him, taking in the creases marring his gorgeous face. He looked terribly exhausted. It almost broke her.

"We weren't sure how long it would take for you to get better. You weren't waking up. I wanted to be here when you did."

The words sounded foreign and uncomfortable coming from Klaus. She was so used to him demanding respect and fear, so used to him shouting that he _never _cared about anything other than himself and his family. Listening to him talk about staying with her until she woke up was the strangest thing.

"How did it happen? The bite?" He asked when she didn't respond.

Caroline shook her head in a vague attempt to gather her thoughts. She bunched her eyebrows together, trying to remember. "I had been drinking, I think. Um, Stefan and I were talking, I remember that. He said something that pissed me off, so I stormed into the woods looking for something to drink. I get thirsty when people make me angry," she explained. Fear started to prickle down her spine as she recalled her quest for blood. "I, uh, heard a noise as I was…hunting…but I thought it was nothing. The next thing I knew, a werewolf had grabbed me by the hip. And it wouldn't stop shaking me—" she broke off when she noticed the solitary tear dribbling down her cheek.

The hybrid shuffled closer to her, his finger reaching out and gathering the salty liquid onto his forefinger. A sinister spark of want spread through her at his touch. "Do you remember what the wolf looked like?"

She blinked, forcing her dangerous thoughts to halt. "I think it was brown and white. But a pale brown, like the colour of apple cider." She could see the monster when she closed her eyes, how vicious it looked as it tore through her flesh.

"Hey, hey," Klaus soothed, moving from his chair to the bed as her body shook with silent sobs. He pulled Caroline's head to his chest, and she didn't bother to care when the duvet slipped down her body, revealing her white lace bra. "It's okay. You're safe now."

_I'm safe, _she said to herself. _I'm safe, I'm safe, I'm safe. _

Who was this man holding her? Last she heard he was trying to take over New Orleans. But she felt so safe, so warm, in his arms. This wasn't Niklaus Mikaelson, the baddest vampire that ever did live. This was _her_ Klaus, the guy who'd spent so long trying to woo her. The guy who'd succeeded in his task.

She was being foolish when she expected that one time to be enough. Stefan had been right, she missed him. She _craved_ him.

Ugh, why? What was the point? He was going to go to New Orleans soon and she couldn't just follow him there.

"Caroline," he murmured. Caroline raised her head, holding in another attack of sobs. He gave her a small smile and swiped her cheeks. "I've got to be honest with you," he said, his face falling.

Caroline's chest tightened. "Wh—what? What is it?" She stuttered.

Scared blue met wary blue.

"Klaus, what is it?" She repeated more urgently.

Klaus let out a puff of air. "When I left," he began, his voice (if she weren't mistaken) shaking, "I took Haley, Tyler's friend, with me."

_Where was he going with this? _

Pressing her head to his chest again, Klaus continued, "and it was because she is pregnant…with my child."

* * *

><p>When she awoke again, she mustered the energy to get out of bed and went to the full-length mirror in the Salvatore's bedroom. After ordering Klaus away she'd somehow managed to drift off.<p>

Red blotches stained her cheeks. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed with pink. The look did not suit her.

Sadness didn't suit her.

But she wasn't just sad. She was disappointed. And she felt _used_.

He'd told her everything. Everything!

Genevieve, the…_baby_. The Camille chick.

When he'd come to her in the fall, he'd seemed so wanting. Wanting of her. She thought she was special. _He made her feel special_.

She wasn't special, not to him.

Caroline abandoned the mirror and went back to the bed. No one else had been up to see her, so when she saw a fresh pile of clothes and a folded note on top of them, she was thoroughly perplexed.

_Caroline_, the note read on its upside. She recognised that handwriting. Caroline crumpled it up and threw it in the wastepaper basket.

Maybe she was a masochist. Maybe that's what she turned into the minute Katherine snuffed her with a pillow. No, scratch that—there was no doubt in her mind she was a masochist. And it wasn't Katherine that had turned into one. It was Klaus.

She craved him like she craved blood. She just got really good at pretending it wasn't true. Seeing him aways came with a mix of pleasure and pain, and she got the biggest kick out of those feelings.

Elena had it right—the bad boy just couldn't be turned down. But she had to try, because at the moment the pain was overpowering her.

Was she always just an itch to him? An annoying tease he only pursued because she didn't immediately give into his charm?

Well, he'd scratched her now. Scratched her so hard she was bleeding.

Dressing in silence, Caroline came to the conclusion that she should go downstairs. She didn't know if anybody was at the boarding house, but this room was too stuffy, and all she could hear within its walls were the words pouring like werewolf venom out of Klaus' mouth.

The lighting inside the house was dimmed, giving everything inside a glow. Sitting casually on the sofa she believed would have been her deathbed was Stefan, a book in hand. He turned his head when she reached the bottom step.

In the blink of an eye, he was in front of her, inspecting her closely. His hands drifted from her cheeks to her shoulders to her waist.

"I'm fine, Stefan," she assured him. _Lies, lies, and more lies. _

Stefan stepped away from her so they were at least an arm's-length apart. "I know, Klaus told me. He said your hip was healing faster than he'd hoped. Though he did say it would probably scar."

"How do vampires scar? That makes absolutely no sense."

"Werewolf venom does things to us," he informed her. "It messes with our systems. It has the ability to leave scars."

Caroline threw up her hands in a huff. "Great!" She exclaimed loudly. "So now I'll have a damn scar from that stupid thing. Amazing. I'll never be able to wear a bikini again!"

"Whoa, what's got you all worked up?" Stefan frowned at her.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Caroline stuck her chin up. "What do you mean?"

"Care, of course you can wear a bikini. The scar'll be hidden by your bikini bottoms," he explained. "So, I repeat, what's got you all worked up?"

Caroline said nothing.

A look of annoying realisation blew across Stefan's face. He smiled at her. "Klaus. He looked a bit miffed when he stormed out of here. What did you guys fight about?"

Only one thing Stefan said stuck out. "He's gone?"

Stefan frowned again, the V in his forehead deepening. "Back to NOLA, yeah. Said you didn't need him anymore—Care," he said, concerned. "What's the matter?"

Caroline fought against a sniffle, but couldn't hold back the sharp gasp that filled her lungs. "God! He's such a bastard," she cried. "He fucked Haley! He went on and on about how bad Tyler was for doing it, when Tyler didn't do anything, and then he went and he _did it! _And he got her fucking pregnant! How does that happen? How…I…Stefan." She choked on his name and collapsed into a chair.

"Caroline Forbes," Stefan cooed. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me that I'm stupid for trusting him. Say I shouldn't even be thinking about him. That I can't be upset about this because it doesn't affect me in the least," she pleaded, needing someone to snap her out of her misery.

"I can't do that."

She glared at Stefan through hazy eyes. "Why not?" She snapped.

"Because it isn't true. None of it. I've told you time and time again that it's okay to like Klaus. He's not my favourite person in the world, but he's clearly, weirdly in love with you." Caroline started to protest, but Stefan held up his hand. "Ah-ah, no speaking yet. I'm not done. What I'm trying to tell you, Caroline, is you can't be afraid of this. Be afraid of what this guy does when he's feeling rejected and angry. He obviously used Haley because he couldn't get to you. And this whole baby thing? I've got no clue how it happened, but Klaus told me himself that he and Haley have agreed the child is the only reason they're even talking to each other."

"But…Stefan, he's a father. Responsible for another human being!" Then she stopped. Anger lit within her. "He told you? He told you and said nothing to me?" She accused.

Fearing the worst, Stefan backed up a few feet. His green eyes shone with defensiveness. "Yes. Yes, he told me. But it was only when we thought you were going to die. He said that if he could go back in time and change anything, anything in his life at all, it would be that mistake."

Caroline stormed to her feet and placed her clenched fists on her hipbones. "So you and him are chums now, huh? Best buds again?"

"Of course not, Caroline," he chided impatiently. "But when he saw you fighting for your life, he just started talking. About everything. About you. He's old, Caroline. He doesn't let things like girls get to his head. But you've always been the exception."

Caroline, again, remained silent. She didn't want to hear this. Stefan was typically very good at being on her side. She wanted him to shout with her about how lame and asshole-y Klaus was, not praise him.

"Look," Stefan sighed. His shoulders slumped and he looked exhausted. How had she not noticed before? _Because you're a selfish bitch sometimes whose main concerns are your own problems_.

Right.

"Klaus doesn't necessarily deserve your forgiveness right away. He made some awful choices. He's always going to be damaged, but trust me, please, when I say that he's trying. And you deserve someone who tries. Someone who gives up the parts of themselves that make them bad so they can be good for you.

"I'm not going to say anything else on the subject," Stefan said, and she believed him. "You can do what you like with the information I've given you, but know, Caroline, that Klaus has _always_ tried with you."

And again, she believed him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: **Well? Wanna kill me yet?


	3. Intro to Part Three

**When the Bleeding Stops: Introduction to Part 3 **

Caroline hadn't slept more than ten hours since he left. Luckily, she didn't need the sleep due to the whole _being the undead _thing. But she wanted it. Unfortunately for her, her brain couldn't find the energy to itself shut off. Thoughts blinked constantly behind her eyelids like those annoying school zone signs warning you to go 25 miles per hour.

Her poor head was near exploding. Her eyes were about ready to pop out of their sockets.

For the first few nights, she'd been able to do nothing but lie in the Salvatore's spare bedroom, mulling over all she had learned about The-Hybrid-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless. Nobody had wanted to move her as she was still weak on her feet. Whether it was from the werewolf bite or what _he _had told her, she wasn't quite sure. So all she could do was stick to the comfy mattress like tape and _think_.

It had been nearly two weeks since the "incident" (as she had been calling it in her head) occurred. Stefan was right—she had a nasty scar just below her bikini line. The grooves were jagged and silver and she hated them.

She was still staying at the Salvatore's. Friends would come to check on her every now and again. They brought her fresh blood and clothes. They told her stories of the outside world. They asked her when she would be ready to leave the boarding house.

They asked her because she didn't _need _to be there. Her mother had invited her home, said her bed was all made up for when she wanted to go back to it. But Caroline didn't want to go home. Besides, that place didn't feel like home anymore.

Stefan had been nice enough to let her stay with him, and who was she to pass on such hospitality?

But she knew why she couldn't leave. She knew deep down inside her vampire gut why her legs refused to walk out of the boarding house's wooden doors. And it was because of _him_. Because she still wasn't over "it". And she wouldn't leave until she had finally gotten rid of all the negativity crowding her mind. Until she had finally come to terms with what he had done.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Yes, this is the introduction to the third and final part of When The Bleeding Stops. It didn't fit with the rest of the chapter, so here it is on its own. I should have the third part to you by Sunday, but I'm hosting a party at my flat that evening, so you may have to wait until Monday...

Any guesses as to how she's going to cure her rotting brain? *Hint* think Kübler-Ross...

'Til hopefully Sunday,

-LoveIsATemple


	4. Save Me One More Time

**A/N: **Ta-da! It's the end. But I'm excited. I'm very excited. And very nervous. But wow! The love this guy has gotten has made my chest hurt. You guys...I can't describe how happy you all make me.

Thank you for the faith and for sticking with this. I really, really, really hope you enjoy this last part. It might seem either really long, or super rushed. Either way, I am looking forward to your reactions! But remember, I'm a very sensitive person and harsh words make me sad.

Sorry it took so long. I rewrote the end a lot. And the beginning. And the in-between bits. A lot of you were worried about how I would "handle" the baby, and I think I did an okay job in the end.

Camille makes an appearance, but I wanted her to be a likeable character in this, so we'll say that between the time Klaus left and came back, she got over him. She's all about Marcel now, let's assume. Also, I have excluded a certain stage in a certain (Kübler-Ross) process. This was simply because I couldn't find any inspiration for it, but don't worry, I know it's missing. We shall pretend it never existed.

Thank you again and welcome to the final instalment of **When The Bleeding Stops**.

* * *

><p><strong>When The Bleeding Stops Part Three: Save Me One More Time<strong>

Pacing was almost like physical therapy for Caroline. Her left hip would protest. It would groan and whinge like old shutters or an iron gate in need of oil, but everyday, after a good bout of pacing, she felt better. Marginally better, but better all the same.

Today, three and a half weeks after _he _had scurried off back to New Orleans with his tail between his legs (pun intended), was sunny. Bright bursts of light, the kind that would give human-Caroline headaches, filtered all around her makeshift bedroom in the boarding house. Looking out of her window she watched as crows landed on the lush, green grass and wondered who did the gardening for the Salvatore's. She'd never seen any of them with hedge cutters or a lawnmower.

"Are you pacing again?" Asked Elena from the doorway.

Caroline nearly flew through the roof with fright. Funny how she couldn't die unless you stabbed her with a piece of wood or happened to be a furry wolf-man, yet she was still able to get scared by someone as meek and tame as Elena Gilbert.

Clutching her chest as if to slow down her non-beating heart, Caroline blew out an unnecessary breath and smiled. She wiped her forehead, gathering a piece of hair and tucking it behind her ear. "I am pacing again, yeah."

Elena came into the room, the wooden floors creaking beneath her soft footsteps, and sat on Caroline's bed. She picked at invisible lint on the comforter, which told the blonde that there was something Elena wanted to discuss.

"What is it?" Caroline asked, giving into temptation. She never could deny someone when they looked like they wanted to talk.

"I want to say something," she said, and Caroline's scalp prickled, "but I'm not sure how to say it."

Fear, however unprecedented, tumbled down Caroline's spine. This didn't sound good. "Just tell me," she insisted, though she really wasn't sure she wanted to know anymore.

A small smile—a very _I'm-Terrified-Of-What-Your-Reaction-Might-Be-Caroline _smile—tweaked at Elena's lips. "It's been, what? A month since you got bitten?"

Caroline kinked an eyebrow and moved to sit at the chair in front of her cherry vanity set. She shuffled the chair, ignoring the scraping sound as it glided across the wood, so it faced Elena. "Is that what you wanted to say? Because you already know when the accident was. I don't think any of us will be forgetting it anytime soon."

Forgetting Werewolf Bite #3? Never. However much Caroline wished she could erase the moment from her memory (and everything that happened in the few days afterward), she wasn't quite sure Bonnie was up for creating a memory-loss potion.

Elena pouted like a schoolgirl who had been caught stealing sweets. "Okay, yes, I know," she said in exasperation. "A month is a long time, don't you think?"

"We are literally the living dead, Elena. One month is nothing," Caroline reminded the brunette.

"Okay, yeah, that too. But _I_ think a month is long enough."

"Long enough…?"

"You've been avoiding something, Caroline. We all know what it is. I think it's time."

Caroline felt queasy. Was Elena referring to what she thought she was referring to?

"I don't know what you mean," Caroline lied. She wasn't up for this. Not yesterday, not tomorrow, not ever. She had promised herself weeks ago that this particular subject of conversation would never be allowed to grace her presence. And Caroline hated broken promises.

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Elena flopped on the bed, her head hitting the millions of pillows Stefan had given her to "make her feel more at home." "Klaus, Caroline. We need to talk about him. About what he did."

"No, no." Caroline shook her head. She stood up and went to the window. "No, no, no, no. No!"

"Saying 'no' a lot won't make me drop this," Elena said.

Caroline turned to face her friend. "I don't care. You can badger me all you want, but I am _not _talking about…_him_."

"Caroline," Elena said softly. "You need to start—"

"—Start what?" Caroline interrupted. "Forgiving him? Liking him again? Killing him? Please tell me you're advocating his murder, because I will scour the earth looking for some white oak if it means getting Klaus off the planet for good."

Caroline's face was probably red. Anger spat inside of her like bacon grease in a hot pan. What was the point of talking about any of this? Caroline would never get over it, so why bother?

"You need to start grieving," Elena finished, looking rather annoyed at Caroline.

Giving Elena her best incredulous look, Caroline folded her arms over her chest. "Grieving? I haven't lost anyone. I'm not dying. I haven't just broken up with someone. I don't need to grieve."

Oh, but even as she spoke, something dawned on Caroline. Despite never actually _being _with Kl—_him_, they had danced around each other enough in the recent years, their feelings for each other growing and changing before their very eyes.

That time they'd spent in the woods…

Caroline sighed wistfully—sadly. Sex against a tree wasn't romantic. Having your clothes ripped from your body wasn't either. She had adored that top too. And that bra.

She'd walked away from the woods with scrapes on her back and teeth imprints on her shoulders from when he so badly wanted to bite her but didn't want to harm her.

It almost looked like she'd been attacked by a dog. She'd thought as much when she observed herself after getting back.

Sex against a tree shouldn't have been fun or sensual or _amazing, _but it was. And she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was because of _him_.

He was special to her. But she wasn't special to him.

"Caroline," Elena said, suddenly in front of her.

Caroline took a step back. "What?" She asked, annoyed beyond reason by how petulant she sounded.

Her friend smiled at her, her face contorted with disgusting compassion and concern. "You need to grieve."

"No," Caroline said lowly, very close to stomping her foot. "I don't."

* * *

><p><strong>Stage One: Denial—One Day Later<strong>

She couldn't believe it. Not really. Words could not describe the disbelief coursing through her.

Had it actually happened?

Caroline circled the living room again, her hands shoved into her pockets. It didn't make sense. None of it made any sense.

"Ugh!" She cried, throwing her hands up and causing Elena to jump from where she sat reading some book she had to study for next term. "I don't get it. I just don't get it!"

"What don't you get, Care?" Elena asked reluctantly, placing the book on her stomach.

Caroline frowned, a strange huffing noise falling out her mouth. She halted in front of Elena. Her strapless yellow dress billowed around her hips and legs. "I just don't think it's true," she said. "It can't be."

Elena gave her a blank stare, her brows furrowing and lips parting in question. How did she not get what Caroline was talking about?

"You've lost me," the brunette admitted. She sat up straighter and crossed one leg over the other. One day she would make an excellent businesswoman. If she could ever get out of this town.

Puffing out a long sigh, Caroline started pacing again. Millions of thoughts—questions, really—droned in her ears. They were beginning to give her a headache. But when you were alone most of the time in a huge house that could probably inhabit an entire town, what else were you supposed to do?

Despite offers of going out and enjoying the rest of the summer, Caroline was intent on remaining in the Salvatore's boarding house. Her friends would occasionally come by, as would her mother, but these walls were starting to look a lot like home. And she needed a home.

"Caroline, you're starting to scare me."

The blonde vampire stopped moving. "I'm scaring you? I'm not doing anything."

"You're not making any sense either."

"Do I have to be making any sense right now? I'm really confused."

"Okay, I get that," Elena said. She stood and walked to where Caroline was standing. She placed her hands over Caroline's bare shoulders, her warm hands burning the pale girl's skin. "But _what_ is confusing you?"

Should she tell Elena? Caroline thought the reason for her distress was evident, but she supposed there was a possibility she was wrong. After all, she was getting a lot of things wrong as of late.

Elena was one of Caroline's best friends. What was the harm in telling her?

Rolling her neck to loosen the kinks that had formed since the morning, Caroline looked Elena directly in the eye. "I don't think Klaus got Hayley pregnant."

There, she said it. She let her problem roll of her tongue, she said _his _name. And now she felt like absolute shit.

"What makes you think he didn't get her pregnant?" Elena asked sweetly, as if she were speaking to a child.

_Oh, yeah, _Caroline thought, _this is why I didn't want to say anything_. She didn't want pity. She knew everyone else believed it was the bastard hybrid who impregnated the wolf, but how in the hell was _she _meant to believe it?

"Well," Caroline began, "vampires can't get pregnant, can we? And we can't impregnate anyone else. That's what makes the sex so much fun. So, why should it be possible that Kl—he—got her pregnant? He's a vampire. He's the _original _vampire. I mean, seriously, it just doesn't make a lick of sense."

She left off the part of her that was wondering if the original hybrid had gotten Hayley pregnant, why hadn't he knocked her up too? But that was too painful to even consider mentioning.

"It can't be true," she added quietly. _I don't want it to be_.

Elena removed her hands from Caroline's shoulders and took a step back. Her wide brown eyes worried Caroline. "I talked to Bonnie," Elena revealed, her voice wary. "And she told me how it was possible—"

Holding up her hands, Caroline squeezed her eyes shut. "No, stop it. I don't want to hear it. I don't care how it's possible, Elena. It just…it can't be possible. I don't believe it. She…she's lying, or something. Or someone else got her pregnant. It can't have been Klaus."

Caroline walked away then, storming up to her bedroom. She slammed the door shut. A shiver worked its way throughout her entire body; her bones rattled and her brain shook.

She refused to accept that _he _had gotten Hayley pregnant. She would vehemently deny it until the day she got a dagger to the heart.

* * *

><p><strong>Stage Two: Anger—One Week Later<strong>

Damon chuckled and she was one hundred percent certain he was laughing at her. How dare he laugh at her when she was in such a fragile state?

"Shut up, you don't get to laugh at me," she spat. "I'm mad and you're the one tasked with babysitting me tonight, so you're gonna shut up and listen to me vent. Got it?" She pointed a finger in Damon's pale face.

He narrowed his eyes at her and cocked an eyebrow. "Barbie, what's on your mind? I've never seen you so…enraged. It's kinda sexy."

Reaching to the side, Caroline grabbed ahold of the china plate on the kitchen counter. Without blinking she smashed it over Damon's head, smirking when he winced. "Don't call me that. You're not allowed to call me that."

Damon shuffled back, his cheeks heating with palpable rage. Good. She needed him as mad as her. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

"I'm pissed, okay? That a problem for you?"

"Are you angry at me?"

"No."

"Then what was with the destruction of my grandmother's favourite plate?"

"What?" Caroline gasped, only to be laughed at—again.

Damon's blue eyes crinkled 'round the edges. "I'm kidding."

"You are such an ass," Caroline very kindly informed him. She brushed past him, sure to knock her shoulder _extremely _hard against his, and stomped her way into the library.

She heard Damon's heavy feet following her. "Wait up, Caroline. Tell me what's got you so riled up."

"Do you really want to know?" She didn't care that it was Damon in front of her today, she just really wanted to get this out of her system. It felt like acid was eating her insides, she was so angry.

Zipping to one of the sofas in the library, Damon smirked at her. He lifted his feet to the fancy coffee table in front of him (which he probably wasn't allowed to put his feet on) and folded his hands in his lap. "Yell away."

Caroline took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"He fucked her!" she shouted in disbelief. "He fucked her and got her pregnant and then had the audacity to come back to me. I can't believe I ever liked that son of a bitch, which, by the way, is an excellent name for him. Very fitting. I mean, what was he _thinking_?"

"Wait a second," Damon interrupted. Caroline stopped talking and inhaled a deep breath. "Is this about _Klaus_?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"No—yes. Kind of."

"Well, it's about Klaus. Now shut up and let me finish."

Damon moved his fingers over his lips in a 'zipping' motion and tossed 'the key' over his shoulder. He was such an immature child sometimes.

"Okay, where was I?"

"You were wondering what he was thinking when he had sex with Hayley."

"I thought I told you to shut it," Caroline growled. "And besides, I was being rhetorical. But anyway, yeah, what _was _he thinking getting that bitch pregnant?"

* * *

><p><strong>Stage Three: Depression—One Week Later<strong>

Zipping up her oversized jacket, Caroline collapsed on a chair in the rarely-used television room that Stefan had only just told her about. Matt and Jeremy were lounging on the love seat next to her, a bowl of popcorn between them. Some movie with lots of guns and blood flashed on the screen.

Something was wrong with Caroline. She couldn't explain what it was, but she was so…_sad_. All of her motivation had abandoned her. The sun had vanished from existence. Even her blue eyes had lost their spark.

She awoke to sallow skin and blue and purple circles beneath her eyes. It was as if her happiness had been snuffed out like a candle. Like the glow inside of her had been turned off.

She really didn't like this feeling.

"Wait, she can't die, can she?" Jeremy said suddenly. "She's immortal?"

Caroline looked over at the boys as they stared at the television. Some girl was being chased with a knife.

"No, I don't think so," Matt replied, unsure.

Moving her eyes to the TV, Caroline watched as that same "immortal" girl got stabbed in the chest, neck, stomach, and skull. Ew.

"Nope, she's definitely capable of dying," Matt corrected. "Hey, Care, are you crying?"

Caroline noticed Matt and Jeremy looking at her with very concerned, lost expressions on their faces. Lifting a hand to her cheeks, she felt a distinct wetness cover her fingers. Oh, God, she _was_ crying.

"It's just…" she heaved, completely thrown. Where were the tears were coming from? "She didn't ne—need to die. She was meant to be im—immortal. Why did he ha—have to kill her?" She was acting crazy. She'd never even seen this movie before; it made no sense for her to be attached to its characters.

Matt and Jere's bodies went fuzzy as more tears filled her eyes. She covered her face with her hands and bowed her head. Awkward shuffling could be heard from the love seat.

"It's unfair," she whimpered. "All of it's un—unfair." At least she hadn't put makeup on that morning. No mascara tracks for her, that was all that mattered.

"Uh…" Matt muttered cautiously. "Do you want to be alone…?"

Gasping, Caroline jerked her head up. "No!" She whined. "Don't leave me. Hold me."

Jeremy and Matt, the two boys that they were, didn't look very sure of the situation. They eyed each other with unreadable expressions.

"Just…someone please hold me."

"Caroline," Matt hushed, slapping Jeremy over the head and getting off the sofa. He went over to Caroline and pulled her up, sitting back down with her on his knee. He held her body close to his and stroked her hair.

Jeremy flipped his thumb over his shoulder as he moved towards the door. "I'm gonna…go," he said, and he left before Caroline could apologise for her sudden outburst.

She sobbed into Matt's neck for a good five minutes before he got the courage to ask her what the matter was. So, she told him.

"Why would Klaus do this to me?" She asked, not expecting an answer. No one had an answer. She didn't even think Klaus did. "I was fine until he showed up in our lives. Fine until he decided to fall in love with me…until I kinda sorta fell in love with him. Why, Matt? What was the point? Did he just want to ruin me?"

God, had she just said that? Said that she'd fallen for him? For Klaus?

But it was true; she had fallen in love with Klaus. Whether it was the minute she realised he was actually worthwhile and she just didn't want to admit it, or whether it took much, much longer than that, she'd inadvertently—totally, wholly inadvertently—fallen for Klaus: The Worst Supernatural On The Planet.

And then he'd broken her.

"Hey," Matt whispered into her hair. He fitted a fist beneath her chin and lifted her head until she was staring into his blue eyes. He gave her a small smile that melted her soul. "You are not ruined. He didn't ruin you, Care. You're just a little sad, that's all. And angry, and we all get that. We understand it."

Caroline closed her eyes and sniffed ungracefully. "But he basically told me he loved me and then he went and slept with Hayley. Who does that?"

"Klaus," Matt said matter-of-factly."Klaus does that. Klaus, the boy who became a king before he'd gotten the chance to grow up. The guy whose own parents never loved him. The man who, somehow, made it his life's mission to make you his.

"Now, I'm not excusing what he did. That was pretty…fucked up. But he's sorry. I know he's sorry. And I know that doesn't make it any better, but he loves you. And you two weren't together. He didn't have you, so he found her—" Matt cut himself off and Caroline opened her eyes to see if something had happened. "—This baby isn't the thing that's bothering you, is it?"

Caroline's eyes widened. What was he talking about?

"It's the fact that he slept with Hayley, right? You love kids, Caroline, and you love Klaus. But it's Hayley you don't understand." Matt smiled to himself like he'd solved the world's greatest problem. "Caroline, get over it! It happened a long, long time ago. He obviously doesn't care about her like he does you."

If she had a heart, it would be in her throat.

Matt's face softened even more. Soon he'd be a melted pile of flesh and bone.

"Why are you championing his cause all of a sudden? Why are any of you? You all hate the damn guy. He's singlehandedly ruined all of our lives." Caroline was being serious, what was with all of her friends lately? A year ago—three months ago—they'd all have been at her throats about this. They'd gone bat-shit when they discovered she'd slept with him. What was different now?

Matt shuffled beneath her, the look on his face one of concentration. "I guess, what it boils down to, is we've grown up. Seeing you nearly dead on that couch was a wakeup call to us, and watching Klaus burst through the door to save your life helped us realise that we'd been idiots last year."

"Did he really burst through the door?" Caroline asked, wiping her runny nose with the spare tissue in her jacket pocket. She didn't know what prompted the question. Morbid curiosity, probably.

"Yeah, he did." Matt nodded his head in bemusement. "Has no one told you what happened after you passed out?"

"No," Caroline said carefully, unsure if she wanted to know.

"Do you want me to tell you?"

Caroline thought for a second—a fraction of time; one moment in her never-ending lifespan that would evidently change the course of her life entirely—and bobbed her head: up once and then down. She held her breath.

Smiling—softly—at her, Matt clutched her closer. She lay her head back on his shoulder and listened to his steady heartbeat. "He got here faster than any of us thought he would and immediately demanded to see you. I think he almost threw up when he finally did see you, to be perfectly honest. I've never seen a grown man go so pale. He started shouting at all of us really loudly, for all sorts of different reasons. But eventually all of us left the room and he seemed to calm down.

"I waited with Elena by the doorway, watching as he lifted you. You were so limp, but he was so careful. He held you close to him, whispering these words Elena and I couldn't hear and then, louder, he pleaded with you. He begged you to open your mouth. We went back to the others after that; it felt like we were intruding. But I'll never forget how absolutely terrified he was."

Matt moved again, lifting her so she was staring at him. With wide, tired eyes, she waited for him to finish.

"We've all done terrible things, Caroline. We've all hurt the people we love the most, we've all killed people in cold blood. We've all made horrible, unforgivable mistakes. The only difference between us and Klaus—he's just been doing it a lot longer than the rest of us. I'm not telling you that you need to go to Louisiana. You never have to see that guy again, if you want. But stop thinking that the fling with Hayley meant anything. Klaus…he's changed. As much as it pains me to admit, he's changed for the better—he's changed for you, because of you. Don't think he doesn't care, please."

Matt finished talking. He rubbed his thumb up and down Caroline's spine as she sat on top of him in shock.

Matt had always been one of the smart ones when it came to matters of the heart. He and Stefan should start an advice show.

"Do you believe me?" He asked after the silence had drugged them long enough.

"Why are you doing this?" She replied.

"Because you deserve to be happy. And if Klaus makes you happy, then you deserve to be with him."

* * *

><p><strong>Stage Four: Acceptance—Two Months Later<strong>

"I can't believe it took you four months to decide to do this," Stefan admitted as he sat on her suitcase. "And I can't believe he doesn't know you're coming."

Caroline smiled at her floppy-haired friend, moving around his legs and zipping the luggage. "Me neither, and it wouldn't be a surprise if I let him know," she huffed, willing the case to zip one final inch. "Success!" She squealed. "Thanks, Stefan. I tried sitting on it, but it didn't really work." She frowned at her bulging carry-on.

Jumping off the suitcase and onto the floor, Stefan gave her a swift hug before pulling back and inspecting her. His eyes were narrowed. Oh, dear. "Are you going to be okay with so little clothing?" He asked cheekily.

Caroline slapped his shoulder, but she was smiling. "God, you ass, I thought you were going to give me another lecture. Yes, this will be enough. I think. Either way, it'll be less to pack if he turns me away."

"He wouldn't do that. I'm sure it will be enough. Besides, he's rich. He can buy you a whole new wardrobe."

"I like teasing Stefan," Caroline told him. "He's fun."

Stefan gave her a wide grin before reaching over and grabbing her suitcase. "I'll meet you downstairs, okay? Just make sure you've got everything."

"Yes, dad," Caroline muttered. "I'll see you in a minute."

Winking at her, Stefan stepped out of the room.

Caroline walked around the other side of the bedroom she'd been calling her own for the past few months. Pictures of her and the gang hung on the walls, as did a vintage poster of Dracula.

Peering out of the window, the blonde vampire caught sight of her friends chattering on the Salvatore's front lawn. A car was waiting, ready to take her to the airport—to take her to her new life.

She pressed a hand against the cool glass as she studied the people she loved most talking casually with one another. She looked at each one of them, trying hard to burn this image into her brain. It wasn't as if she'd never see them again, but Caroline had never been so far away from _home _before. She wanted to remember how it looked when everything was right in the world. At least for the time being.

Leaving Mystic Falls would be hard. Saying goodbye to everyone would be even harder. But it was time to go.

She was ready for this. For leaving. For seeing him again.

She was ready for happiness.

* * *

><p>Louisiana was hot. Burning hot. She'd been there less than an hour and she had already sweat through the light blue tank top she was wearing. Thank God she hadn't let Bonnie talk her into wearing jeans. Luckily, to avoid the humidity, she'd put her hair up in a ponytail before hopping out of the plane.<p>

There was a low hum surrounding her as she stood in the French Quarter, suitcase in hand and purse slung over her shoulder. People of all shapes and sizes crowded around as dusk began setting in. It was beautiful. She watched as a group headed into the bar directly in front of her and decided to follow.

Rousseau's was dimly lit. It smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and largely of booze. Oddly shaped chandeliers hung above the bar countertop. Instead of stools in front of the bar this place had pull-out wooden chairs.

_Well, Caroline, I've a feeling we aren't in Kansas anymore, _she thought to herself, stepping further into the establishment.

After knocking into a few people—and getting leered at by more than one man—Caroline found herself sitting at the bar, awaiting service. She wasn't stupid, there would be no alcohol consumption for her. There was no telling what the whole deal was with New Orleans in regards to supernatural forces. She didn't exactly want to die before she got a chance to see all the sights.

The blonde behind the bar was busy with another customer, talking animatedly to the man in a rumpled business suit about psychology. A few moments later, she was in front of Caroline, wearing a fake smile.

"What can I get you?" She asked, and Caroline was struck by how familiar this person looked.

Caroline blinked, suddenly unsure of herself. She knew this person, but she didn't understand _how_. Butterflies exploded in Caroline's belly. "Um…water?" She said eventually, her voice tiny.

The bartender raised her eyebrows. "You sure? You look like you could use something stronger."

"I'm sure," Caroline insisted, another wave of anxiety washing over her. That tequila on the shelf was starting to look really nice. "Just…water."

Nodding once, the bartender went and got Caroline a glass of ice water. She placed it on a coaster and flashed another too-big smile.

Caroline smiled back this time, her lips shaking.

"Are you just visiting? Or are you moving?" The woman asked.

"I'm not sure yet. Depends," Caroline mumbled cryptically.

The bartender laughed. "On what?"

"On if the person I've come here to see actually wants to see me."

"Ooh, surprise visit. Guy or girl?"

Having grown up in the smallest town imaginable, Caroline wasn't used to being bombarded with questions. Especially from strangers. There was something unnerving about it.

Caroline wanted to answer _neither, _but thought that would be a bit too obvious. "Guy."

"Does he frequent this bar?"

"That's what I hear."

Bartender Girl's blue eyes opened a bit more. "Tell me what he looks like, maybe I can help you find him. Or at least tell him you're looking for him if he arrives when you've left."

Gah, where had she seen this woman before? "Um, he's tallish. Blondish. He's got these weird kinda-blue, kinda-green eyes that can see into your soul…sorry, that's probably not a helpful hint. He can be an asshole sometimes," Caroline offered, losing herself in the mental images she had stored away of Klaus.

Bartender Girl laughed genuinely. "I'll keep an eye out. What's your name, in case I find this guy?"

"Caroline Forbes," she responded without thinking.

"Well, Caroline," Bartender Girl said, sticking her hand out, "I'm Camille. Welcome to New Orleans."

_There's a girl who works at the local bar. She looks like you_. _But she's not you, Caroline._ _I've tried to let her in, tried to replace you with her, and it's so cruel of me to do, but it's not been working. I need you. I need your forgiveness. Please, Caroline. _

Klaus' words from four months ago, from when he begged her to understand, slammed into Caroline like a freight train. Absently, she shook her doppelgänger's outstretched hand and mumbled a very quiet _nice to meet you_.

A moment later, her hand was dropped. "And what's this fella's name...?"

"Camille," said a gruff, English voice, halting Caroline's answer before she'd even formed it. "I've had a long day. Bourbon on the rocks."

The colour drained from her face. Her neck moved of its own accord in the direction of the voice. _That voice! _

"Hang on a minute, Klaus, I'm trying to help this girl find her man," Camille said without looking away from Caroline.

Shifting his delicate eyes from Camille, Klaus moved his focus to _her_.

The smug expression she had seen moments earlier vanished, his jaw coming unhinged.

This was not how Caroline imagined the big reunion scene. She was expecting something more along the lines of when Hugh Grant came back from some trip in _Love Actually _only to be jumped by his girlfriend in the airport.

"Klaus…?" Caroline heard Camille say, but she wasn't paying attention to anything that wasn't the hybrid sitting next to her.

He looked tired, more tired than he had after rescuing her. And worn—so, so worn. His eyes were swimming, flashing all over her body like he couldn't believe she was there.

And then he closed his jaw, locked it tight.

"Caroline," he said between clenched teeth, bewildered and almost…angry.

Great. Angry Klaus.

Caroline's chest tightened as she waited for him to say something else.

"What are you doing here?"

Taking in a shaky breath, Caroline lifted her lips into a minuscule, frightened smile. "I'm here to see you," she said, because she was.

"You're here for me?" He looked scary all of a sudden. Like the beast she'd feared when he first arrived in Mystic Falls. The monster everyone warned her about. The guy who had chained her up without ever asking her name.

"…Yeah," she whispered, her vision blurring. This was definitely not _Love Actually_

"Camille," he snapped, and Caroline jumped, her eyelids jamming out two tears. "Forget the drink. I'm going home."

He shot one last sneer at Caroline before he got up.

Caroline could do nothing but watch him get devoured by the sea of bodies in the bar.

"That's the guy?" Camille asked, but Caroline could not move. She had stopped breathing long ago, and expected herself to collapse any second.

"Caroline? Your name is Caroline and I didn't connect the dots," the bartender mumbled to herself. Caroline didn't know what the woman was talking about.

"He…you're the reason he left town a few months ago. Something happened to you." Camille's sentences weren't questions, they were solid fact. And she seemed to understand that. "God, I remember that night. And I remember when he came back, all brooding and dark."

_And you're my replacement_, Caroline wanted to say back, but her mouth refused to move.

Did Klaus' refusal mean that while she had spent four months accepting that he had impregnated someone else, he had spent four months loathing her for turning him away?

An odd noise broke the silence and it took Caroline a second to realise it was her own choked sob.

"Thanks for the water, Camille. I'm gonna…go see if I can find a cab to take me to the airport," Caroline gasped, voice tiny as a mouse. That look on his face as he left…it was enough to make Caroline never believe in love again.

Camille shook her head. "No, stop. I want to help you."

"What? Why? How?" She said dumbly and in quick succession.

"I want to help, because I can, I will tell you where he lives."

Part of her wanted to leave. The stubborn part that her mother had infused within her blood when she was just a baby. But the other part of her—the romantic, cliché, lovestruck part—wanted nothing more than to listen to what Camille had to say.

Forcing down another sob, Caroline kinked a brow at the bartender. "I don't like your 'why,'" she told her.

Camille had not given Caroline any reason to hate her in the minutes that they'd known each other, but this woman—this older, smarter woman—was interested in Klaus. That made her an immediate threat.

But Caroline was tired. And sad.

Camille leaned against the bar countertop, close enough that Caroline could smell her tangy perfume mixing with her sweat, and whispered, "I might not know Klaus like you do, but I am a psych student. That wasn't a rebuttal, it was a little boy running scared from his feelings. I assume you've turned your back on him too many times to count and, because of how underdeveloped his emotions are, he's refusing to allow it to happen again. He's guarding his heart. He's terrified you'll take it again without giving it back.

"Caroline, I know love when I see it, and that was love."

.1.

She had arrived in New Orleans with such hope. Hope that this would be easy. But she was stupid to think that Klaus would play fair. Camille was right, he was basically a child. And she hadn't given him much reason to trust her, so could she really be surprised by his reaction?

Now she stood outside of a large home, waiting on the front step like a Girl Scout. The world's most frightened Girl Scout.

Poising her hand over the wooden door, she bent it forward once, twice, three times. Loud bangs echoed around the silent street. It was late; the people had all gone home.

Her carry-on sat beside her as she waited, its contents pressing against the seems, threatening to burst the bag.

Eventually, Caroline heard footsteps approaching from inside the house. Moments like these made her wish she still had a heart, so she could feel its frantic beating against her ribs as she nervously awaited her fate. Just something to make her feel more alive...more human.

The large door opened with a heavy creak, and there he stood. Brooding, angry…Klaus.

"Before you say anything," she said, surprised by the amount of power in her voice, "let me tell you that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for a lot of things, but mostly for sending you away in Virginia. It was rash and uncaring of me, though can you really blame me? And I'm sorry for this—" she motioned between her and Klaus, keeping her eyes locked on his "—I know me showing up out of the blue probably doesn't help anything."

Caroline huffed a breath and crossed her arms, waiting for some sort of reply. But Klaus just stood there silently, a blank, uncaring look on his face.

A child.

Camille really _was_ right.

"God, Klaus!" Caroline squealed, uncrossing her arms and balling her hands into fists by her sides. She was very close to punching him. "What do I have to say to help you get over it? When I asked you to leave, I didn't mean I wanted you to leave Virginia. Just the bedroom, so I could gather my thoughts. I mean, come on! How can you be mad at me for sending you away?"

Anger of her own was starting to rise within her, but she needed to reign it in if she wanted this conversation to go anywhere. They were both so hot-headed and stubborn. For once, she'd be the one to take the high road. She'd beg for his forgiveness, tell him she understood and that she forgave him—because she did, and she needed him to know that.

It wasn't an easy task. Forgiving him…it took time and energy and it almost ripped her to pieces. But she'd gotten there in the end. What was it those philosophical people always said? Love conquers all?

Had Klaus forgotten that?

Caroline disliked the heat radiating off of his body. And the quietness. It was too loud.

But, God, he was beautiful when he was sulking. Lips turned down into a pout, blue-green eyes studying something on the ground, hair ruffled and begging to be touched, black clothing that clung to his body like tape. She just wanted him to say something. Anything. Yell at her to go away, or beg her to come inside. Just _something_.

Caroline closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, her eyelashes clinging together as a wetness coated the rims of her eyes, she noticed Klaus had taken the tiniest step forward.

"You told me you got someone pregnant, Klaus," she sighed, the weight of her words hanging in the air, making it difficult to get her thoughts in order. "Someone you had previously told me you disliked, someone _I _disliked. What did you expect me to do? Congratulate you?"

More silence.

One more thing, she'd say one more thing, and then she'd be done with it. With trying to fix this problem. She'd fly off back to Virginia and live her endless life without Klaus.

Just the thought of having to head back made her knees weak.

"Look," Caroline said, fighting to get past the tennis ball in her throat. Klaus' eyes remained locked on the ground by Caroline's feet. "I've been trying really hard to hate you for such a long time, Klaus, but I'm done. You're a bad guy, you've done bad things, I get that. But you're also a good guy. You've got your vices and you've got your virtues, just like the rest of us. Coming here wasn't an easy decision to make…but here I am."

More silence. Caroline was ready to turn around.

Then, "She lost the baby." It was a whisper; a sad, sad whisper.

Caroline's throat closed. "When?" She managed to choke out. Klaus still wasn't looking at her.

There was a beat of stillness, no longer than the thump of a heart. "A week after I returned from Virginia. Her body couldn't handle what was growing inside of her; it wasn't equipped."

"Where is she now?"

Klaus finally lifted his gaze to Caroline's, his eyes full of such grief. The man had a human side after all. "I don't know," he said, and Caroline believed him. "She left as soon as it happened and I haven't heard from her since."

"I'm sorry," Caroline offered, her own voice amazingly soft. She wanted to ask why he hadn't told her before, but decided against it. She didn't deserve an answer.

A humourless smile planted itself on Klaus' face. "It's not your fault."

Caroline didn't smile back. She just watched. She watched as Klaus stumbled toward her on unsteady feet, watched his face flash darkly then brightly, watched his arms reach out—

—he grasped her, tight. His hands pressed against her spine. Caroline swallowed her surprised gasp, her brain catching up slowly to what had just happened.

Quickly, before he could run away again, she wrapped her own arms around his shoulders, enraptured with how warm and _at home _she suddenly felt.

Klaus breathed in her ear, odd sounds falling from his lips.

"Are you really here?" He asked harshly, one hand moving to her hair. He gripped her frizzy ponytail tightly, almost to the point of pain.

"I—I'm here. I've got a suitcase," she said.

"You're staying?"

Reluctantly, Caroline pulled herself away from Klaus. He looked like an old book—worn and dusty, but still so amazingly handsome; still capable of telling great stories.

She wound her hands around his biceps and glanced briefly at her carry-on. "Is that okay?"

"Caroline," he crooned, his voice crackly and hopeful, "I've been wanting you to come here since I left. This is more than okay."

"Are you sure? You…you just told me…about…the—"

"Later," he insisted, his forehead scraping against hers. She revelled in how he felt pressed against her. This was not their time in the woods. This was not rushed or frenzied or a goodbye. This was a hello, a new dawn. This was finally waking up. "Just—later."

"Okay," she agreed against his lips, the touch sending shivers through her veins and down her spine. "Later."

And then she kissed him, and all the pain and the worry and the residual anger she felt stopped. Just like that.

Just because of him. Because, finally, she had _him_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: **Well...?

If you want to know what happens 'later' I might be able to post a one-shot describing how they handle everything after this. ***"Later" has now been published in the form of the three-shot entitled _These Things That Heal._**

Once again, thank you all. I love you!

The End.

-LoveIsATemple


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